FAVOUR.

JADY! in beauty and in favour rare,
Of favour, not of due, I favour crave:

Nature to thee beauty and favour gave,

Fair then thou art, and favour thou may'st spare. And when on me bestowed your favours are,

Less favour in your face you shall not have :
If favour then a wounded soul may save,
Of murder's guilt, dear lady, then beware.
My loss of life a million-fold were less

Than the least loss should unto you befall;

Yet grant this gift: which gift when I possess, Both I have life, and you no loss at all:

For by your favour only I do live;

And favour you may well both keep and give.

ITY refusing my poor Love to feed,

A beggar starved for want of help he lies, And at your mouth, the door of Beauty, cries That thence some alms of sweet grants may proceed. But as he waiteth for some alms-deed,

A cherry-tree before the door he spies

"O dear!" quoth he, "two cherries may suffice,
Two only life may save in this my need."

But beggars, can they nought but cherries eat?
Pardon my Love, he is a goddess' son,
And never feedeth but on dainty meat,
Else need he not to pine as he hath done :
For only the sweet fruit of this sweet tree
Can give food to my Love, and life to me.

THE LAST CHANCE.

INCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part;
Nay, I have done; you get no more of me:

And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,

When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,

When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

And Innocence is closing up his eyes,

Now, if thou would'st, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.

TO THE RIVER ANKOR.

LEAR Ankor, on whose silver-sanded shore
My soul-shrined Saint, my fair Idea lies,

O blessed Brook, whose milk-white swans adore

The crystal stream refined by her eyes,

Where sweet myrrh-breathing zephyr in the spring
Gently distils his nectar-dropping showers,

Where nightingales in Arden sit and sing,
Amongst the dainty dew-impearled flowers;

Say thus, fair Brook, when thou shalt see thy queen,
Lo, here thy shepherd spent his wandering years;
And in these shades, dear nymph, he oft hath been;

And here to thee he sacrificed his tears:

Fair Arden, thou my Tempe art alone;
And thou, sweet Ankor, art my Helicon!

TO SLEEP.

JARE-CHARMER Sleep, son of the sable night,
Brother to death, in silent darkness born,

Relieve my languish, and restore the light:

With dark forgetting of my care return,
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-adventured youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires,
To model forth the passions of the morrow;
Never let rising sun approve you liars,
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow :
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain,
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.